


track 2.10: sunset bridge

by towine (blacktreecle)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: M/M, Realizations and Confessions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 21:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11494797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blacktreecle/pseuds/towine
Summary: Haru asks Ryuji, in her typical singsong voice, “So how long have you and Akira-kun been dating?”“… What?”





	track 2.10: sunset bridge

**Author's Note:**

> i had sunset bridge from the ost on repeat while writing this fic, this game and its music make me feel so many things :'))) akiryu ensnared me so early into the game it's ridiculous. this is my first foray into persona fic, i hope you enjoy!

Perhaps because she is the newest member of their group and thus the most unfamiliar with them all, Haru asks Ryuji, in her typical singsong voice, “So how long have you and Akira-kun been dating?”  
  
Ryuji nearly rips the tomato plants he was tending to out of their soil. This is the last time he offers to help Haru with her little garden on the school rooftop.  
  
_“… What?”_  
  
Haru doesn’t realize the oddness of her statement, nor the way Ryuji squeezes the tomatoes in his hand in distress. She only smiles understandingly and says, “You seem very good together.”  
  
“He and I,” Ryuji squeaks, “we’re—”  
  
“Someday I hope I can find someone who looks at me the way Akira-kun looks at you.” Haru sighs dreamily, smiling as she drifts her fingers over the leaves in front of her. “You are very lucky.”  
  
Ryuji feels faint. “It isn’t like—”  
  
Haru’s phone rings, and one glance at the caller ID has Haru hastily wiping her hands to answer it, giving Ryuji a quick, “Please excuse me for a moment, Ryuji-kun.” When she finishes with the call, she tells Ryuji she has an urgent meeting to get to at the Okumura Foods offices, and she asks Ryuji to please give the plants a quick watering before he leaves, thank you and so sorry for the trouble.  
  
In her haste, Ryuji doesn’t get a chance to explain. The door of the rooftop clangs shut as she leaves, and Ryuji runs a hand through his hair, mutters, “Jeez.” He picks up the watering can and wonders, _What the hell did she mean the way Akira looks at me?  
  
_ -  
  
Ryuji watches closely during their next meeting in Leblanc’s attic.  
  
He doesn’t think Akira stares at him any differently than anyone else does. Maybe he doesn't glare as much as Ann or chide as much as Morgana, but it’s certainly not like Akira spends much of his time gazing soulfully into Ryuji’s eyes. Because that’s what couples do, isn’t it? Ryuji’s experience in this particular subject is nigh nonexistent, but he figures that much is certainly part and parcel with the whole _relationship_ thing.  
  
“Is there something wrong with my face?”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
“You were squinting at me,” Akira says.  
  
Ah, shit. He noticed.  
  
Thinking fast, Ryuji says, “Uh, th-the light shining off your glasses was hitting my eyes.”  
  
“Oh?” Akira takes his glasses off, blinking his too-long eyelashes. “Is that better?”  
  
It’s far from the first time Ryuji’s seen Akira with his glasses off. But for some reason, Ryuji’s face turns warm and his pulse quickens beneath his skin. Akira tilts his head questioningly.  
  
“Yep!” Ryuji’s voice, to his horror, cracks. But Akira doesn’t seem to notice, just gives Ryuji a small smile before turning back to listen to Morgana’s explanation of another Mementos request.  
  
Ryuji groans inwardly at himself, and when he turns away from Akira he catches Ann’s gaze, one delicate eyebrow raised at him.  
  
“What?” Ryuji grouches.  
  
“Oh, nothing,” Ann says, sipping at her milk tea.  
  
-

  
**YUSUKE:** _Ryuji, may I request your assistance with something?_  
  
It better not be for modeling, Ryuji thinks, before responding, _whats up_  
_  
_**YUSUKE:** _I have a few boxes of art supplies arriving today and I would greatly appreciate some help carrying them up to my dorm room, if you are available._  
  
Ryuji looks around his room. All he’s doing is reading manga, and sure, there’s a pile of unfinished homework waiting on his desk that he could (should) be working on, but.  
  
**RYUJI:** _yeah sure, when?  
  
_**YUSUKE:** _Right now, if that’s alright. They should be arriving soon.  
  
_ Ryuji heads for the train.  
  
When he arrives in front of Yusuke’s dormitory, it’s more than just a few boxes sitting at Yusuke’s feet.  
  
“What the hell, Yusuke?” Ryuji stares. “Just how many art supplies do you need? This is why you never have anything to buy food.”  
  
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yusuke says, hefting one of the boxes into his hands, “I bought groceries today. Bean sprouts and miso.”  
  
“You need more than that to live, you know!”  
  
By the time they get all the boxes up the stairs to Yusuke’s room—on the fourth floor, Ryuji internally cries—Ryuji’s arms are aching and his hands are sore from gripping the cardboard.  
  
“Thank you,” Yusuke says, when Ryuji places the last box on the floor beside all the others. “Sincerely. This would have taken me much longer had I done it all by myself.”  
  
“Yeah, well.” Ryuji stretches, hears his back pop in two places. “You don’t have to do stuff by yourself anymore, so. Anytime, man.”  
  
Yusuke makes a soft sound of agreement, with the barest curve to his lips. “Right.”  
  
“So, you got juice or anything here? I’m parched.”  
  
“There is a vending machine down the hall. I’ll return in a moment.” Before shutting the door behind him, Yusuke adds, “Feel free to look around.”  
  
Ryuji does look around. There are canvases all over, at varying points of progress. A bookshelf full of art books and some textbooks for non-art related classes. A neatly made bed and a drawing desk with a sketchbook laid on it.  
  
He steps over to the desk, and the sketchbook is open to a pencil drawing of Akira. He seems to be staring at something, cheek leaning against his curled hand, his face relaxed and open with the hint of a smile on his lips. His eyes… there’s a warmth in them that Ryuji is surprised to see conveyed through pencil. He nearly touches it with the tips of his fingers before stopping himself, not wanting to smudge Yusuke’s work.  
  
“I sketched that during one of our meetings,” Yusuke explains, suddenly appearing beside him. Ryuji nearly jumps out of his skin. Yusuke, unperturbed, offers him a soda can.  
  
“I-Is that so?” Heartbeat returning to a normal rhythm, Ryuji pops open the soda tab.  
  
Yusuke nods. “The looks Akira gives you are quite inspiring. I’ve been working on conveying the emotion on paper, and I think I’m getting closer to achieving it.”  
  
Ryuji chokes on his soda.  
  
Yusuke pats Ryuji’s back while he coughs violently. “Ryuji?”  
  
“Not this shit again,” Ryuji wheezes. “First Haru, now you, too. Just what the hell is going on?”  
  
“I’m afraid I don’t follow.”  
  
“You and me both.” Ryuji sighs. He covers his face with one hand, grimaces in embarrassment as he asks, “Does Akira… really look at me that way?”  
  
“You haven’t noticed?” Yusuke is genuinely surprised. “I assumed you two are very close.”  
  
“Well, yeah but…” Ryuji glances at the page again, feels his face heat up.  
  
“I think Akira cares a great deal about you, if that isn’t too presumptuous of me to say.” It’s always astounded Ryuji, Yusuke’s ability to be perfectly comfortable speaking with such unabashed honesty. God. This is not at all a conversation he ever expected to have with him. “Of course, Akira cares a great deal about everyone. I believe that’s why he is our leader. But I think there’s something even more meaningful with you. It’s the reason I drew this, after all.”  
  
Ryuji makes a distressed noise in his throat. This is all too much for his brain to handle at the moment.  
  
“Forgive me, it’s probably not my place to talk about it.” Yusuke moves to close the sketchbook.  
  
“It’s nice.”  
  
Yusuke pauses.  
  
“Your drawing.” Ryuji rubs at the back of his neck, sips at his soda and looks out the window, too embarrassed to look at Yusuke, or the soft sketch of Akira’s eyes, directly. “It looks good.”  
  
-  
  
That evening in his room, Ryuji considers.  
  
Why did it bother him so much, Haru mistakenly assuming they were dating? He could have just laughed it off and explained no, they’re only friends, and perhaps they spend a lot of time together but Akira hangs out with many people. Like a magnet, people gravitate to him. Ryuji was one of them, after all, finding himself drawn to this nameless, unfamiliar boy and suddenly feeling like he can rely on him. It had been so long since Ryuji felt like he could genuinely trust someone.  
  
But had he thought about Akira romantically before? He can’t help thinking about it now—Ryuji doesn’t know much, but he knows this: spending time alone together, going out on dates, holding hands… k-kiss—  
  
Ryuji buries his face in his pillow. He feels hot all the way to his fingertips.  
  
Oh no.  
  
-  
  
He’s yet to catch Akira staring at him the way Haru and Yusuke apparently have, but at this point, it doesn’t matter much. Ryuji can’t shake the thought—him, Akira, _together_ —and it’s starting to drive him crazy.  
  
He feels a little bad about the way he’s handling it. Normally, he texts Akira two to three times a week asking to hang out, but this week he hasn’t been able to work up the nerve at all. Ryuji wonders if Akira has noticed. But he just can’t bring himself to spend time alone with him without turning red in the face, without searching Akira's eyes for something he might have been ignorant to all this time. So instead, he runs away. He’s always been good at running.  
  
But this time, there’s no escaping it. They’re down in Mementos, trying to fulfill the last of four different requests. Akira’s in the driver’s seat, guiding Morgana over the winding, endless train tracks, which leaves Ryuji free to look out the window and decidedly not at the person who has singlehandedly occupied his thoughts for the past week.  
  
“Sharp left here,” Futaba says, a digital projection of the floor’s map in front of her. Akira complies.  
  
Before them are the gnarled, twisted ends of the tracks, and the hellish red of the portal leading to their target.  
  
“Careful,” Futaba warns as they all pile out of the van. It’s always difficult to read her expression with her goggles over her face, but her lips are pressed into a thin line. “I’m getting a huge power signature from this one.”  
  
Ryuji stretches, twirls his pipe in his hands. A good fight feels like exactly what he needs to escape his thoughts. “We got this,” he tells her with a grin.  
  
“Be _careful_ ,” Futaba stresses again, following them all through the portal.  
  
Futaba was right to warn them.  
  
Yusuke grunts as he guards against a heavy swing from their target’s spear, a towering, armored Bishamonten Persona, and the force of it pushes him back, boots scraping against the concrete. “Skull,” he grits out through his teeth.  
  
“I got ya!” Ryuji comes from behind, pipe arched over his head.  
  
The Persona whips around lightning-quick, knocks Ryuji aside with its broad arm. Ryuji falls, the wind punched out of him, pipe clattering to the ground.  
  
The sudden warmth of a Diarama spell washes over him. When he looks up, Akira is holding a hand out for him.  
  
“Thanks,” Ryuji says, taking Akira’s hand and rising to his feet.  
  
“He’s tough, huh?” Beneath the mask, Joker smiles, which is just terribly attractive.  
  
“Nah.” Ryuji rolls his shoulders, picks his pipe off the ground. “He’s no match for us.”  
  
They charge in.  
  
All that talk and still all they can do is slowly wear away at the Persona’s health. Even the fierce burn of Makoto’s nuclear spells and the force of Yusuke’s attacks still leave the fight dragging long. All of them breath heavily, the length of the battle taking its toll. Morgana’s healing spells are losing their vigor. Ryuji’s pipe feels heavier in his hands, more and more difficult to swing.  
  
“Just a little more!” Futaba shouts, casting Matarukaja over them all. Ryuji feels strength return to his body, just enough for him to make this last, final push.  
  
Haru fires one of her rockets. It barely phases the Bishamonten, but the resulting smoke gives Ryuji the chance to close in with a heavy swing at the Persona’s head, and the hard impact rattles up Ryuji’s arms. Bishamonten groans and Ryuji leaps away, just missing the swing of the Persona’s arm. Not falling for that again.  
  
It’s disoriented. Akira readies an ice spell, light gathering at his fingertips.  
  
Bishamonten recovers faster than expected. It shakes its head fiercely, blinking away its dizziness, then focuses its gaze on Akira.  
  
“No!” Ryuji nearly falls with the abruptness that he turns on his heel, but he doesn’t care.  
  
Akira’s eyes widen. The Bishamonten rounds on him with frightening speed. Ryuji is faster.  
  
He pushes Akira out of the way. Pain explodes in his side.  
  
He flies several feet, hits the ground hard. Fuck. _Fuck_. He thinks at least one or two of his ribs are broken. The world is spinning. He can’t tell up from down. It takes all his energy to roll off his side and onto his back, and _goddamn_ his ribs hurt.  
  
A shadow falls over him. “Skull!” Akira. He kneels on the ground beside him, his gaze worried. His fingers hover over Ryuji’s form. “Ryuji.”  
  
It’s difficult to find his breath. Ryuji heaves in a gasp and winces at the pain in his ribs. A green glow emanates from Akira’s fingertips, flooding Ryuji with warmth. The pain from his ribs dissipates. Ryuji breathes easier.  
  
“Man,” he rasps, “that guy really got me.”  
  
Akira grasps Ryuji’s collar with shaky fists.  
  
“You…” Akira’s eyes are wide. “You could’ve…” His voice falters. He bows his head, his grip on Ryuji’s collar tightening for a moment before he drops his hands away.  
  
“H-Hey,” Ryuji says, sitting up, “we made it out okay, didn’t we?”  
  
Akira stares at Ryuji like he’s trying to memorize the details of his face. He sighs, shuts his eyes. Then he slumps forward and presses his forehead against Ryuji’s chest.  
  
Ryuji freezes. He can feel the warmth of Akira’s breath through his clothes.  
  
“Yes,” Akira says softly, “we’re okay.” He looks up. “Let’s go home.”  
  
Behind Akira, Morgana takes a hold of the target’s treasure. The rest of the Thieves must have finished without them.  
  
Makoto is the one to get into the driver’s seat this time. Just before they join the others inside the van, Akira reaches out to squeeze Ryuji’s arm, briefly, and he says very quietly, “Thank you.”  
  
Ryuji stops. His heart is in his throat, beating wildly. Not trusting himself with words, he shrugs and slings an arm over Akira’s shoulders. He feels Akira relax.  
  
They head home.  
  
-  
  
**ANN:** Meet me at the diner on central street today. Like 12 ish. Got important stuff to talk about.  
  
**RYUJI:** uhhh like what  
  
**ANN:** Just be there :p  
  
When Ryuji arrives, Ann is already waiting for him in front of the steps to the diner. She all but drags him in.  
  
“Hey, what the hell?!”  
  
She maneuvers him into one of the booths before she takes a seat across from him, lacing her fingers on the table and fixing Ryuji with a serious look. Ryuji gulps.  
  
“So,” she begins, “you and Akira need to get together already for the sake of all our sanities.”  
  
“… _What_?!”  
  
This is precisely when the waiter arrives at their table and says, “Welcome! What can I get you today?”  
  
Ann turns to him, a perfectly cheerful smile on her face. “Two fruit teas, please!”  
  
“Alright, I’ll get that for you right away.”  
  
“Thank you so much!” When the waiter leaves, Ann’s expression once again turns very serious.  
  
“This is what you dragged me here for?” Ryuji demands.  
  
“Oh, come on. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed.”  
  
“Noticed _what_?”  
  
Ann’s stare becomes more pointed, her eyebrows raised.  
  
Ryuji loses the last of his patience. “I’m effin’ tired of everyone making assumptions and saying all these things are obvious when I don’t have a damn clue what they’re talking about!”  
  
He earns a few curious glances from the nearby tables, but Ryuji doesn’t care.  
  
“I wish I knew, okay? I wish I knew what everyone else sees, about Akira, about us, but I—I don’t, alright, I just don’t.” Ryuji slumps down over the table, presses his forehead against the wood. “Everything’d be so much easier if I knew.”  
  
Ann is quiet. She sighs. Ryuji can hear the shifting sounds of her clothes as she moves, then he feels a hand muss his hair.  
  
“Wh—hey!”  
  
“You’re really hopeless, aren’t you?” she says. Her tone lacks bite, and it makes Ryuji furrow his brows at her. “Why do you think Akira reacted that way when you jumped in front of him?”  
  
“That’s…”  
  
“He cares about you. A lot.” Ann taps her fingers against the table. “And honestly, it’s kind of driving us nuts wondering when you two are gonna get together already. Haru already thinks you’re together.”  
  
“Yeah, I _know_ ,” Ryuji mutters.  
  
“Did she mention it to you?” Ann laughs. “Y’know, if she assumed you were dating, it must mean it looked like it went both ways for her, not just how Akira acts towards you. So I guess the real issue here is how _you_ feel about him. Do you like him?”  
  
“I…” Ryuji thinks hard. He’s spent quite a lot of time this week thinking about what it would be like to date Akira. And he’s admitted before that being around Akira makes him feel free—like he can be anyone he wants, not just who others demand him to be. There isn’t anywhere he’d rather be than by Akira’s side, if he would have him.  
  
Ryuji blushes madly. How embarrassing. It’s always been Akira, hasn’t it?  
  
Ann giggles again. “I’d guess that’s a yes.”  
  
The waiter arrives and places two teacups on saucers in front of them. Ann thanks him and proceeds to add three sugar packets to her fruit tea.  
  
Ryuji fingers the delicate handle on his teacup, grumbles, “You know I’m more of a soda guy.”  
  
“If you’re gonna go confess,” Ann says, “you’ll need all the charm you can get.”  
  
-  
  
Outside the door to Leblanc, dark inside now that it’s past closing, Ryuji paces back and forth with his phone in hand.  
  
“Just effin’ do it already,” he mumbles to himself, thumb hesitating over the chat app. He takes a deep breath, then taps open his conversation with Akira.  
  
“Ryuji?”  
  
Ryuji jumps ten feet into the air.  
  
“Holy _fuck_ —”  
  
“Sorry, sorry!” Akira readjusts the bag on his shoulder, from which Morgana’s head peeks out. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”  
  
“Well, you  _did_.” Ryuji places a hand over his rapidly beating heart.  
  
“Sorry,” Akira says again, not looking particularly apologetic at all, if the smile at the corners of his lips is any indication. “What are you doing here this late?”  
  
“I, uh. Wanted to see you.” Ryuji slaps a hand over his eyes. He pleads at his face to stop blushing already, dammit. “I mean—I needed to talk to you about something.”  
  
“Oh. Okay.” Akira pulls out a key from his pocket and approaches the door. “Want to come in?” Ryuji nods.  
  
Akira flips on the lights when they enter. It’s strange seeing Leblanc so dark and quiet. Ryuji’s never been here this late before.  
  
“Coffee?” Akira offers, setting his bag in one of the booths. Morgana climbs out, stretching his limbs.  
  
“Nah, I’m good.” Coffee would only make Ryuji jittery, and the grasp he has on his nerves is already tentative at best.  
  
“Do you want to go upstairs, or?”  
  
Upstairs. Akira’s bedroom. Ryuji swallows and says, “Yeah.”  
  
As they climb the stairs, Ryuji notices Morgana staying behind, making himself comfortable in one of the booths. The look he gives Ryuji seems to say, “I don’t want to have any place in whatever happens upstairs,” which only makes this whole thing more mortifying. He wonders how a cat can look like he’s raising an eyebrow. Ryuji only shakes his head and continues onward.  
  
Akira shoulders off his jacket and drops it onto the table beside the stairs. “Make yourself at home,” he says, gesturing vaguely to the expanse of his room. While Ryuji takes a seat on the couch, Akira opens a packet of plant nutrients and deposits it into the soil of his leafy potted plant, murmurs something to it about growing strong.  
  
He even gives his plants loving attention. Ryuji thinks he can’t be the only one in love with the guy.  
  
“Hey, Akira.” Ryuji wipes his hands on his jeans, swallows against the nervousness clawing up his throat. “Have you… ever dated anyone before?”  
  
Akira is surprised by the question, blinking. “No,” he admits. “It’s been an eventful few months, here in Tokyo. And before living here, there wasn’t really anyone I was interested in.”  
  
“And what about now?”  
  
“Hm?”  
  
“A-Are you interested in anyone now?”  
  
Akira straightens his back, turns to face Ryuji fully. “Yes,” he says softly.  
  
Ryuji’s heart thumps so loudly he wonders if Akira can hear it. He takes a breath, says, “Me too.”  
  
Akira’s eyes widen. Ryuji can’t believe he’s surprised. All this time, ramen dates and late night phone calls and who knows how many sappy heart to hearts. It’s no wonder the rest of the Thieves are at their wits’ end.  
  
Ryuji rises from his seat and walks forward to Akira. He stays perfectly still as Ryuji approaches, even when Ryuji leans in, lifting one hand to rest it against the wall behind him, boxing him in. Akira’s breath trembles on each exhale, and his eyes flicker to Ryuji’s own.  
  
“Ryuji.” Akira’s voice has gone very quiet.  
  
“I like you,” Ryuji says. He fills with determination. “I’ve probably liked you since the day we met. I like fighting beside you and hanging out with you and talking to you. A-And… if we could do all those same things but as boyfriends, too, then that would be really, really awesome. So.”  
  
Akira stares. Ryuji won’t run this time. He keeps Akira’s gaze, looks for a reaction or emotion in the inky depths of his eyes.  
  
Akira laughs.  
  
“H-Hey! What’s so funny? I’m serious, dammit!”  
  
“No, I know,” Akira says, muffling a laugh into his hand. He’s grinning. “Since the day we met…” he mutters, shaking his head. “We’re pretty dense.”  
  
“Huh?”  
  
Akira’s hands cradle Ryuji’s face, and Ryuji freezes under his touch, breath catching in his throat. Akira’s hands are warm.  
  
“I like you, too.” Akira’s smile is gentler now, and he looks at Ryuji like he is some precious, wondrous thing. Ryuji thinks this is what Haru and Yusuke and the others have seen for so long and that Ryuji somehow missed. It’s a shame—Ryuji wants to collect those moments, keep them like treasure.  
  
“That’s…” he breathes, “that’s—”  
  
“Awesome?” Akira suggests.  
  
“Well, _yeah_.” Ryuji grins. His traitorous skin is blushing again, but he doesn’t care. Akira likes him. Ryuji’s so happy he feels like floating. Like he could lift and fly right into the atmosphere, Akira’s touch the only thing anchoring him down to earth.  
  
“Can I kiss you?” he asks, because he’s come this far and he’s not stopping here.  
  
Akira leans in and steals the breath from Ryuji’s mouth.  
  
-  
  
“Is it break time yet, Makoto?” Ann pleads.  
  
“Not until you’ve finished the first set of problems.” Makoto points threateningly with her pencil.  
  
“I hate math,” Ryuji mutters. He’s got a habit of chewing on his pen caps and he’s gone through two already during this study session.  
  
They really need to find a new place to study together. The booths at Leblanc only barely fit all of them, and the table becomes too crowded with all of their belongings on top of it. The only upside to the tight squeeze is Akira pressed in next to him, their bodies touching from shoulder to ankle. Every once in a while Akira’s foot bumps into his and Ryuji bumps it back. Akira gives him a look, quick and fond and secret, and it makes Ryuji want to escape from the others and disappear upstairs with Akira for a while. Screw studying.  
  
Yusuke’s elbow digs into his side again. Ryuji would normally be forgiving considering the cramped nature of the booth, but this is the third time in the last five minutes and the guy’s got bony elbows. When he turns to ask Yusuke why the hell he’s writing notes with so much zeal, he gets a look at Yusuke’s notebook.  
  
“Hey, Yusuke’s not even studying,” Ryuji accuses.  
  
It’s not a notebook, but a sketchbook.  
  
“I was suddenly struck by inspiration,” Yusuke says, and lifts his arm away to reveal a sketch of Ryuji.  
  
It’s reminiscent of his sketch of Akira, back in his dorm room. He’s smiling, the kind of easy, carefree smile that comes after a laugh, and the same warmth from Akira’s eyes is conveyed again in Ryuji’s. He looks completely enamored.  
  
Haru giggles in her hand. “It’s a good look, Ryuji-kun.”  
  
“It is.” Akira smiles at him, looking very amused by it all.  
  
Where Ryuji might once have sputtered and made a fuss, now he only shrugs and lays his arm across Akira’s shoulders. “Yeah, it’s not bad,” he says, and grins.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you so much for reading!


End file.
